Day of Clarity
by Ranimara
Summary: Keith and Shiro spend Clear Day together and gain a bit of clarity along the way.


**A/N:** An alternative take on the Clear Day episode in season 8.

* * *

Relax. Have fun. It was such an easy concept for the other Paladins, as they each scurried off to go find something fun to do during this unexpected downtime. The young man's lips pressed into a tight line as he turned away from Shiro, giving the surrounding area of colorful booths and festive noise a wary look. His arms were crossed over his chest, shoulders tight, everything in his posture screaming keyed up tension. He could already see a few crew-members of the Atlas oohing and aahing over some fishing game across the way, finally letting go and just enjoying themselves.

Keith let out a heavy breath through his nose and squared his shoulders. Okay, yeah, the others could enjoy themselves. But they were here for a job, and Keith was going to do that job.

The thought of actually exploring the festival and giving into some mindless entertainment? It just left him feeling lost.

All the while, he could feel Shiro's smile on his back.

A heavy arm slung over his shoulder, startled the Paladin out of his dilemma - the tension easing from his brow as Keith looked up at him. Shiro glanced down at Keith, an easy smile on his lips before swinging his gaze back up towards their colorful surroundings. Carnival music filled the air, mixed with the endless cacophony of ringing bells, buzzing alarms, and electronic tones of people playing and winning games, all meant to draw more in.

"How about you keep me company," Shiro suggested, even as he stepped forward, arm wrapped securely around Keith's shoulders, tugging the Paladin along with him into the crowds.

Shiro now only had one mission for today. Operation Get Keith to Have Fun.

* * *

"So, why am I throwing darts at Lance's head again?"

Keith aimed carefully and unleashed the dart. It hit the corkboard, popping the balloon with Lance's face plastered over it with a resounding pop. Beside him, Shiro had a dart between prosthetic fingers and was taking his time lining up the strike, a Coran-faced balloon in the line of fire.

"Uuum, it seems some of the locals are still upset about the last Clear Day," he admitted with a sheepish laugh, lowering the dart a moment as he rubbed the back of his head. Keith just shot him a puzzled look, as Shiro's dart popped the Coran balloon into little rubbery pieces.

"Do you remember when the team was doing those Voltron shows? Recruiting for the Coalition?"

Keith snorted and rolled his eyes, spinning another dart between his fingers.

"Yeah. I am _so glad_ I wasn't around for that." He looked back at the corkboard, eyed another Lance balloon - there were only two left - before he unleashed the dart. It landed with a thunk in the cork, another balloon scored.

"Hey, it wasn't that bad. It was kind of fun, getting to do performances up in front of people."

With all their darts used up, the dog-eared alien behind the counter was siddling on up, big hands clasped together.

"Three balloons for each of you. And that gets you a small prize! One token for three more darts. If you get just two more, we'll upgrade your prize! Miss two more, and you'll lose it all."

Keith exchanged a look with Shiro and then shrugged, passing over a token. Three more darts were placed down in front of each of them.

"Wait, but that was-" Keith paused a moment, weighing the dart in his hand. "You remember all of that?"

Shiro hesitated, gaze flickering towards Keith, carefully weighing the answer. This? This was something they hadn't really talked about. Something Shiro hadn't really spoken to anybody about. He'd been...out of it, on the return trip to Earth, to say the least. Memories a confused mess as they untangled and settled, each laced with emotions, thoughts, and feelings that felt distinctly foreign. Even now, thinking back on those weeks of traveling the universe, putting on shows, he _remembered_ and _felt_ but it felt like looking through a stranger's eyes.

And then after their return to Earth? Shiro compartmentalized, pushed aside everything that left him wondering who he was, ready to unpack on a rainy day. There had been too much to do.

"Yeah," he said at last. "It's...unclear sometimes. But I remember a lot of it."

"Huh." Understatement of the century coming from Keith, and yet Shiro couldn't help but agree. It was a lot to take in. Keith's eyes were thoughtful even as he shot the dart forward, not really paying attention to it.

Until there was no tell-tale pop of a balloon and the dart was tumbling to the floor.

The gamekeeper let out a low whistle, driving his fist into the air. "So close!"

Keith narrowed his eyes, eyeing the balloons suspiciously. Lance-balloon was giving him a waggly-eyebrow smile. Shiro turned slightly, leaning his hip against the booth as he watched Keith carefully line up the next shot. The dart went flying straight and true, pale golden lights glinting off of the metal point.

It hit the balloon straight on, dipping into the rubbery material,before the balloon sprung back. The dart tumbled end over end to land point-down on the floor of the booth. Keith's eyebrow twitched, as the gamekeeper spread his arms wide, utter sorrow on his elongated features.

"Oh man, that is some bad luck my friend."

Keith bristled, mouth working silently a moment. Then a smack of his hands slamming down on the countertop.

"That hit!" His hand flew out, gesturing wildly at the corkboard and Lance's mocking face. "That definitely hit!" Keith's wild eyes swung from Shiro - who was standing there, hands raised, looking like he was on the verge of laughing - to the gamekeeper who only looked apologetic.

Keith swore under his breath, tugged out another token and slammed it down on the booth.

"I'll get it this time."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, with all his tokens spent, and a gamekeeper left in a concerning mixture of both fuming and slightly terrified of the Paladin's tenacity, Keith was now the proud owner of...something. A stuffed animal of some sort. Round and probably cute, with fluffy slate blue fur, big round eyes, and little wings bursting up from its back. All he had to do was let his hands fall away from it, and it just sort of hovered in the air for a moment before slowly drifting down. Like a balloon. Kind of. He gave it a dubious look as he wandered along at Shiro's side. The older man's smile was easy as he booped the floating toy twice on the nose whenever Keith let it float into his path.

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

Shiro cocked an eyebrow at Keith. "Keep it in your room?"

"I don't sleep with stuffed animals."

The older man let out a laugh at that. "I wasn't thinking that, though a stuffed animal can be soothing." And here, in the midst of this war, trying to get the crew's mind off of the disastrous loss at Oriande, they could use all the comfort they could get.

Keith's hands were around the roly-poly stuffed animal again, holding it up in front of his face, lips twisted faintly as he studied its adorably exaggerated face. He _could_ give it to the Wolf (yes, he was still waiting for him to tell him his name - even if everybody else called him Cosmo and he was answering to Cosmo now), but Keith had put so much effort into winning this toy and Cosmo would rip it apart within 24 hours.

He squished it between his hands, considering. It was soft. He tipped his head slightly, glancing over at Shiro who was standing a little taller, having caught sight of _something_ through the crowds. Keith took one last look at the animal before bouncing it up towards Shiro, the toy rolling lazily through the air until it bumped against Shiro's chest. The Atlas captain caught it deftly with his robotic fingers, his palm large enough to nearly engulf one side of the toy.

"Shiro, I haven't had a stuffed animal since I was a kid." He offered the man a careless shrug, though he didn't bother to hide the smile quirking his lips. "It's yours. Like you said, it's a good destresser." Keith left it at that, decision made as he stepped forward.

Shiro lingered back a moment, eyes on the toy, a rock amidst the sea of ever-flowing carnival goers. A smile lit up the man's face, before he tucked the toy under his arm, and jogged to catch up with Keith. "Thanks, Keith. I'll cherish it always." And Keith _squaked_ as the man pulled him into a teasing, one-armed hug, floating arm tugging the Paladin to into his side.

Color touched Keith's cheeks as he playfully shoved a hand into Shiro's cheek, pushing the taller man away even as he snorted. "Yeah, yeah. It's no big deal." Shiro just chuckled in that gentle way of his, hand sliding back to squeeze Keith's shoulder before dropping away.

"Well, you _did_ look like you were ready to throw down with that guy at the darts booth."

Keith bristled. "He was giving me _blunt darts_!"

Shiro grinned and shook his head. He hadn't expected anything less. They were at a carnival, after all. Speaking of which... The smell of something absolutely _tantalizing_ found its way to the man's nose, and he tipped his head up slightly, inhaling as he looked around for the source.

It was always the small details, the little things that brought a brightness to Shiro's features. Made him shine like the sun, brighter than the golden glow that covered the festival grounds. It eased Keith's annoyance at rigged carnival games, drew his eyes up, gaze soft as he admired that simple joy on Shiro's face. Shiro's gaze flickered back to Keith, flashing the man a brilliant smile which only brought that flush to Keith's cheeks, eyes darting away.

"Come on, something smells good over there." Shiro's smile crinkled at the corners of his eyes, tugged at the scar over his nose, before he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Keith felt the press of the man's prosthetic hand thrumming slightly against his back. A familiar gesture, one he hadn't felt in so long, as the two fell easily into step beside each other, Shiro steering him towards the food stalls.

"My treat."

* * *

A high-pitched rattling filled the air, targets snapping up into place. Keith and Shiro stood side by side, shoulders squared, rayguns raised. Their eyes darted over the starfield backdrop, the writhing cutout monstrosities with big teeth and even more tentacles flowing slowly across the landscape. At the first sound of a powerful _ding_ , and suddenly the air was filled with the din of ray guns. Targets shuddered from the blast, Keith's eyes darting up every so often as his hint count climbed.

Another shrill ringing and their blasters died in their hands, Keith rapidly yanking the trigger back, trying for _just one more_. Beside him Shiro whooped, beaming as he punched the air. Keith just grumbled and dropped his gun, arms crossing in annoyance.

"Nice try, Keith. You got close that last time though." The laughter lit up Shiro's face, and Keith's annoyance faded. Lips quirked as he just shook his head, reaching out to clap Shiro on the shoulder, shoving playfully at him in the last moment.

"Whatever, old timer. You got lucky this time."

As the Carnie turned Shiro's attention to the prize counter - "Not bad, not bad. You get your pick from any of these shelves, friend." - Keith grabbed the open bag of _something_ he'd left on the counter and stepped away, munching on a handful. He wasn't sure exactly what it was. Something kind of salty and sweet, with a slightly spicy aftertaste. But it smelled good and practically melted on his tongue.

Amidst the sea of aliens, he spotted the occasional Atlas crewmember enjoying themselves. A weight lifted off of their shoulders that everyone had been carrying with them. He'd been ready to be focused entirely on business, on security and safety when they'd come down here. But Shiro was right. The crew needed this. _Keith_ had needed this.

"Keith."

The young man turned just in time to catch something bouncing up towards him. He started and stepped back making a wild, fumbling grab with his free hand. It bounced off his fingers, Keith barely trapping it against his chest with his free arm. He shot Shiro a questioning look as he eased his arm back, letting the round, rubbery ball roll down into the palm of his hand.

"Not as cool as what you won me -" Shiro grinned, raising the stuffed animal slightly that was once again tucked under his arm. "But wanted to win you something too."

Keith blinked. The ball was a multitude of colors, reds and greens and purples and blues, all mixed together in an almost ever-shifting pattern. Slightly bumpy and fitting well in the palm of his hand. Keith gave it an experimental bounce, the ball making a satisfying fwop against the ground before bouncing right back up to face level. Keith deftly caught it, eyes darting up to Shiro.

"Cool. Thanks, Shiro-hey!" Shiro, with his prosthetic hovering over Keith's shoulder, snagging a handful of the alien snack. The younger man recoiled, pushing the bag firmly away and out of reach. Or tried to. Shiro only leaned in, grinning deviously as he made a grab for it, taking advantage of his height and longer reach, willing the arm out even further than normal, chest pressing into Keith's shoulder as the Paladin flailed, laughter beneath his protests.

* * *

Activity was winding down, the carnival well into its final hour. People still milled about the festival grounds. Carnies still shouted, trying to attract people to their stands in a last desperate hope for sales, festive music still filled the air. But it sounded distant from Shiro and Keith's vantage point on the edge of the grounds, beyond the glow of golden lights. Stadium-like seating sat upon a small hill. The pair sat only a couple rows down from the top, leaning back slightly on the seats, eyes raised upward. Stars shone high in the sky, far brighter than anything Keith had ever seen on Earth.

Shiro sat with his chin propped up on his hand, leaning his elbow against his knee, gazing upward. Beside him was the arm wrestling trophy, bright enough to shine, casting the man's reflection back at him. Even now, with as long as they'd been blasting across the galaxy, Shiro still always had his eyes turned upward. And Keith was right there beside him, one foot propped up on the seat below them, bouncing the ball absentmindedly against the seat.

"Thanks for dragging me around today."

Shiro blinked, turning to look at Keith. The young man only kept his eyes turned upwards, soft smile tugging at his lips. The bouncing had stopped, and he merely rolled the ball lightly in his palm "After everything with Oriande and Honerva, relaxing was the last thing on my mind."

Shiro nodded, dropping his hand down over his thigh, considering a moment. "I get it. We're all worried about what she's planning. About what's coming next." And the potential consequences were astronomical. Something painful tugged at Shiro's heart. It would mean the loss of the man beside him, of all the people enjoying the festivities down below, the very stars overhead. "But I've learned that we can't spend our lives waiting for the next bad thing to happen. We'll prepare, we'll keep looking for her and for answers, and we'll remember to live our lives along the way."

His bare hand slid slightly over the bench, an incidental touch, barely a brush, up against the side of Keith's own glove. "Spend time with friends and family."

Keith's eyes flickered down to Shiro's hand, and then up to the man's face, Shiro's own gaze taking in the festival goers, small groups gradually making their way over to the same stands Shiro and Keith had been sitting on. Keith swallowed, smile tinged with sadness as he dropped his gaze.

"It's been a while since we've been able to spend time like this." It was a soft admittance, holding no judgment for the man beside him. Just a simple statement of fact, one that weighed heavily on Keith's heart. When had the last time been? Back on Earth, the night before they departed on the Atlas? That should have been their moment. They'd made plans to take out the hoverbikes, go riding through the canyon just like old times. But last minute questions and preparations had called Shiro back to the ship, the man leaving Keith alone with a sunset at his back, watching Shiro's apologetic wince. Keith had watched the setting sun on his own until Lance's timely arrival.

And before that? An hour spent sparring together, the both of them sweating and wrestling each other to the ground, Shiro yanking Keith's arm behind his back until the younger paladin was calling uncle. That had been before the battle with Zarkon. Before Shiro had died, and they'd found the cockpit of the Black Lion empty.

Shiro was watching him with that same trace of guilt, a shadow in his eyes before the man shifted his gaze away. "I know. It's not that I haven't wanted to, just..." There was a weariness on the man's shoulders, and the sun that was Shiro faded just a touch. Keith didn't say anything, just gave the man the quiet encouragement to continue on.

"Ever since Allura brought me back, put me in this body -" The man's artificial arm glowed softly, moving seamlessly up as if attached to an invisible limb, fingers slowly curling in. "I'm trying to figure out who I am. Figuring out where the line is between myself and him" Brown eyes softened, studying the smooth panels of his arm. He remembered a transmogrified arm there as well, coursing with power, pain burning so hot in his body. He shuddered at the cold emptiness, the maddening rage, the fact somebody in this body had once looked down at Keith's terrified face and felt _nothing_.

Until a desperate plea had shattered through the madness, striking something deep and profound within _another_ Shiro. Until the maddening corrupting alchemy had blotted it out, smothering that last hope of sanity and doubling down on bloodthirsty rage.

Shiro pressed his hands tightly together, arms braced against his knees as he hunched forward, eyes dark. But there was a gentle, calming touch on his shoulder. Shiro lifted his head, white hair falling over his eyes. Keith's warm eyes greeted him, laced with concern.

"That wasn't you."

But no. No, Keith didn't understand yet. Shiro gave the paladin a smile just barely strained at the edges. "It wasn't who I used to be, but it's a part of me now. I remember all his memories. I've felt everything he felt. All the pride, exhilaration, frustration, fear."

 _And the more monstrous things he would sooner forget._

His eyes turned shadowed, a grim resignation settling over the man's shoulders as his flesh and blood hand lifted, following that inexorable pull towards Keith's cheek. Guilt pooled in his stomach, fingers hovering mere centimeters from scarred skin. Harsh cries rang in his ears, the acrid smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils, the man's fingers shook.

Keith, as always, came to his rescue. Fingers wrapped around Shiro's, drawing his hand down and away from his face. But even when he pushed the man's hand back down to the bench, Keith didn't pull his own back. His eyes were fixed on Shiro's violet and intense, all that fire that had once raged out of control, refined and focused into something that could meld instead of burn down.

"That wasn't you." Those same words, spoken with that fierce determination.

Shiro opened his mouth, but Keith only kept barreling forward.

"That was Haggar laying a trap. You saved me, Shiro. With Black. And even before that." Keith's fingers pressed down over Shiro's, the hand solid and firm. For one crazy moment Keith found himself frustrated that his armored gloves kept Shiro's warmth from him. He let out a heavy breath, eyes darting away. "I think I could always feel you, you know. When I was piloting Black. After you vanished."

After he died. But Keith would never, ever say that 4-letter word. It wasn't real. Wasn't part of his reality. And it didn't matter now, because Shiro was here and safe, and he'd never left Keith's side. "I didn't realize it until after everything, but you were always there, weren't you?"

"I tried to reach out to you. You were suffering."

Keith didn't say anything for a long moment. "Yeah, it was hard." Even after they had found the clone, when they thought Shiro was back, Keith hadn't been able to shake the idea that something was missing. Like a piece of a puzzle lost, Keith forever searching for a piece that didn't belong.

"But the others helped me. Lance really stepped up. I'm glad Red picked him." A wry smile found its way to his lips, brilliant indigo eyes finding their way back to Shiro. "Maybe we didn't _all_ get a makeover, but we've all changed. I don't think any of us are quite who we were before."

His hand never moved from its spot over Shiro's, even as he leaned back on his other hand, looking back towards the twinkling lights in the sky above. "So okay, yeah. You don't feel like yourself. You're still figuring yourself out." Purple eyes flickered towards Shiro only briefly, a tinge of color on his cheeks. "You're not the same guy that took interest in some delinquent everyone else already thought was a lost cause."

"Keith..."

"And if you want some help figuring yourself out? Well, I'm here." He'd always be here. Always come running.

"So, you're saying you'd...lend a helping hand."

Keith's eyes snapped up to find that mischievous, pleased grin on Shiro's face, idly waving his prosthetic hand in Keith's direction. Keith rolled his eyes and groaned at the lameness of that joke.

"See, learned one thing already. You have the same sense of humor."

The Captain of the Atlas laughed softly even as his hand shifted, catching Keith's hand in a loose grip. "You're right though. You _have_ changed." He'd seen some of it while watching quietly from within Black's consciousness. But more of it, he saw now. An older, taller Keith. Broad shoulders, and a peaceful air about him that he'd struggled to find as a teenager.

"When did you get so wise?" Shiro asked, giving Keith a warm smile, pride filling his chest.

"Mmm, this old guy taught me a thing or two. Some of it must have stuck with me."

Shiro laughed and rocked in, shoulder bumping playfully with Keith's. Around them, the stands were starting to fill in and Keith fell silent. But his eyes were warm and his heart was full. Worries and fears set aside, if only for a few hours, and with the only man he had ever loved at his side.

"Looks like it's about time," Shiro murmured, alien toy sitting next to him, the man leaning back on his prosthetic.

Silence fell over the crowd as the first whistling note sounded from afar, a single path of streaming light rippling upwards. A crack through the air, bursting light and hundreds of brilliant colors scattered everywhere. The cascade of colors washed over the crowd, the night sky filling with dazzling displays as more and more fireworks rocketed upwards. Shiro's fingers found Keith's hand, and for the first time in a long time, he felt just a little at home.

* * *

 **A/N:** Like many, I felt that Shiro and Keith's relationship was tragically non-existent in season 8. So, this was my little take on Clear Day, cause let those boys interact. Thank you for reading!


End file.
